The Lonely Monsters
by Cassandra's Vision
Summary: Lola is surprised to see Narcisse mourning over the loss of Estelle. What surprises her even more is what happens next: realizing he is not the monster she thought he was.
1. Chapter 1: 2x04

He was a monster. Mary had told her that. The word echoed through Lola's brain as she charged down the corridor: monster, monster, monster. They had seen their fair share of monsters in their years at court and there was always the threat that there were more monsters to come, waiting offstage, shadowy figures ready to pounce and torment them. It was an ever-present, never changing reality for women and no one was immune. So why then did Lola feel the need to seek out this monster and risk its wrath all to say goodbye to Estelle, a young woman she barely knew?

Lola could feel the answer the moment she saw Estelle at court, the same grave expression she had while trapped in that cage: Estelle had felt hopeless, unable to continue fighting, ready to jump off the edges of the earth to find peace in death. Just as she had not hours before, finding this peace on some rocks beneath a cliff. Lola remembered how she had felt that same hopelessness inside herself over the years: after the deaths of her two brothers, when she learned that Colin, her Colin, was accused of being a rapist, and when she realized that Julian had not followed her out of the burning house. A person can only stand so much unhappiness.

She knew the monster Lord Narcisse was inside the room ahead of her due to the guards posted at the door. They tried to sway her away from the room, but she pushed through the door anyways.

Inside she found a sight she had not expected: the proud lord sitting next to Estelle's body. His arms were pressed up against the dead girl, smoothing back Estelle's soft hair with a gentleness she did not believe he had in him. He stared down at her as if he could not believe his eyes. He had been crying.

These were not the tears of a monster, but of a man who had recently buried his son and now learned that he must burry his wife too. His latest of several wives. She had been prepared to shout at him or stare him down with cold eyes. She had not expected this. She did not know what to say to this man before her, except apologize and grieve with him.

He hardly acknowledged her presence in the room before he began to speak. "I don't understand how she got away, out of the castle…a cliff in the country."

Lola suddenly felt guilty believing that if she hadn't pushed Estelle away the girl would still be here, having found a friend in Lola. She would not have jumped off that cliff. But Estelle would have jumped from a ledge or a window, any surface from which her family beckoned her from.

But this was the man Estelle feared, the whole reason why she left in the first place. "Estelle seemed troubled. Afraid," Lola told him. "Perhaps she was fleeing something." _Someone like you_.

He caught the meaning her tone. "You heard the rumors? These damning rumors of my treatment of my past wives?"

"Do you deny them?" Lola asked outright.

He scoffed. "Contrary to the reputation I enjoy, I am not a soulless animal."

If only he had told Mary those words. If the queen were here she would tell Lola to not feel pity for someone like Narcisse. But Lola could not help it: she felt a wave of pity for Narcisse and for Estelle. Had Lola ruined their chance at happiness? She often wondered if she was cursed to accidentally spread unhappiness everywhere she went. Maybe this was a fitting curse for a woman who could fall in love in an instant, unable to control her heart, prepared to race to the end of the earth for someone she barely knew as long as her heart felt it was right.

She thought back to Estelle's frightened face. "There didn't seem to be an excess of tenderness between the two of you." Though, to be fair, she rarely noticed an excess of tenderness between most couples at court, save for Francis and Mary, and now Kenna and Bash.

"Did Estelle tell you that her father owed me substantial debt? I wed her so she may keep her property." _He must be lying_, she thought immediately.

"And for yourself." Suddenly she realized how harsh she sounded. Then her logical side saw how this revelation could be true. Estelle might have omitted this due to embarrassment, or maybe she had realized upon her arrival at court that it was mistake: her family's property had nothing to do with her happiness. _It could be possible…some girls are sold off to marry for less._

Narcisse had an immediate reply: "Well she was young and I need heirs. We both lost family to the plague but the difference is that she thought that hers had returned, that they were beckoning her." Lola had met her fair share of ghosts too—not physical forms that raced through the castle at night like in a story, but ghosts of memories and people, of loves and friendships that might have been. Colin. Her brothers. Julian.

Narcisse's next sentence surprised her: "They tried to take her life before." So it wasn't Lola's fault she realized since Estelle had attempted suicide before. "Oh, I kept her under close guards thinking that I could protect her." Now his earlier behavior made sense to Lola.

"And the rumors of your other wives?" she asked.

She noticed the haunted, pained look in his eyes. It was the look of someone who was helpless, ready to give up hope and jump off the edge of the world like Estelle had. "I can't stop them." Then he began to ramble, speaking mostly to himself, words he need to tell someone, anyone, even the King's mistress whom he barely knew outside of a brief exchange months ago. The words poured out because it was pointless to silence what he felt so strongly.

"I was young when I first married. A wealthy match my father made. He pushed us both relentlessly to produce an heir. There were miscarriages. And yet we kept on trying. I was fifteen, I knew nothing of women or their bodies." He recalled the shock he had felt when he saw the blood. It was at that moment in his life when he realized the strength women had, a strength he did not think he could bear. But he would need his own strength soon enough: his young wife was dead before he could do anything to save her. "A year after she died my father arranged my second." This wife had died quickly too. She had given birth to a son, a son who could not stop bleeding, just like his mother. "Hemophilia."

"Loss of blood…" Lola echoed the rumor that had scared her earlier.

"She faded away before my eyes…"

This Narcisse that sat in the room with her was not a cruel monster that caused the death of his wives: he was unfortunate and lonely just like everyone else in court, including Lola.

He took a deep breath and stood up to leave as if this is the end of the conversation. "I rarely speak of these things," he added, gently.

Lola remembered hearing another sad story from the queen mother Catherine de Medici's lips over a year before. Catherine had told Mary and her ladies—those _girls_—of her own imprisonment and suffering. Lola was struck by how similar the queen mother and Narcisse were in this moment. Two lonely people bruised by the loss of so many loved ones, a pain they hid behind a proud, dangerous exterior. She realized that the two were not the monsters she had once made them out to be; instead they were victims of circumstance that were damaged and worn, but refused to give up.

Like Lola.

Like so many other people she knew and loved.

"You've never been in love?" she said, speaking her thoughts aloud.

His blank expression told her: no. "That is a rare jewel I have yet to see." Lola had a child, a family, and friends. Narcisse had no one left to grieve with, no one to love, only a never-ending pile of corpses to mourn for.

It was at this moment that he looked at her, their gazes locked for a moment. In that moment she understood him and pitied him: the lonely man with nothing to fill his life and heart but wealth and power, two poor substitutes for the warm feeling of love. She pulled her eyes away from Stephan Narcisse's haunted eyes and looked down at the floor. It hurt to look at him. It was like looking at a wounded animal one had caught in the woods. She felt guilty. She felt empathy. She wanted to assure him of hopeful tomorrows and a brighter future, but those words meant nothing to her now and they certainly would sound extremely hollow to him.

She did not speak. She did not touch him or give him a sympathetic smile. Instead she left the room silently, leaving the broken man to cry alone in the privacy of his own chambers. As she strode away from the door she knew he was crying. Her ears did not hear the sound of sniffles or gasps, but she knew it just the same: she felt it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you everyone for your kind comments and reviews! I think I'll continue this…project…as being a chapter or one-shot relating to any sort of Lola or Lola/Narcisse scenes in each episode from now on. Since I obviously have no clue where these two are going next (because Reign is so unpredictable at times), these collections of one-shots/related stories have no real arc yet since I am just going off what happens in each episode. If things go the way I think they might, then when their arc together is done (I suspect Narcisse will be killed off or disappear before the season ends) I might consider re-writing this into a more cohesive narrative, maybe even add some AU scenes depending on what happens this season. We'll see…. **

**Again, thank you so much for your support! **

**I might as well just say this: each chapter contains SPOILERS for season two of Reign, so before you read this chapter you'll need to watch 2x05 to understand what is happening, or else everything will be out of context since you'd only be reading Lola's scenes. I don't think I could write many scenes from Narcisse's point of view because his character's so shady it's hard to tell how he really feels, so Lola will be our main character for now. **

**[Near the end of this chapter are some descriptive mentions of sex, so I'll keep this as "T" for now.] **

* * *

><p>Lola had spent the morning scouring the castle for Kenna who she found enraptured with a book in hand. That was not a sight many expected to see when viewing Kenna. The sly smile on the young woman's face alerted Lola that Kenna could hardly have been reading scripture.<p>

"There you are!" Lola cried accosting her friend. "We're supposed to be trying on dresses for Greer's wedding."

"We'll all find something for tomorrow," said Kenna distractedly.

"Kenna what are you reading?"

Kenna first thought to hide the book from Lola, only to smile mischievously, her teeth protruding over her bitten bottom lip. Kenna started to giggle: "It's a sex journal written by a lady who sampled most of the noblemen to come through court and a fair few noble women too. She's even rated the prowess of her partners.

"Really?" Lola blurted out, becoming intrigued against her will. Kenna nodded. "How far does this journal go back?"

"Two years."

"Is Bash in it?"

"Not so far. Defiantly not since we've been married, all the entries are dated," she said showing Lola the pages.

"How do you know it's all real," Lola asked. "She doesn't even mention names?"

"Because I all know the partners," Lola raised her eyebrow at this. "Not because I've slept with them!" The two chuckled. "But because there are details about they're dress, their holdings, their habits that make it clear. Except for one that has me stumped and intrigued. A lover who towers above the rest. She says he's an avid hunter and has a small butterfly shaped birthmark on his forearm. That rules out Henry and Bash."

"It's not Julian either."

Julian: she wanted to know that he was alive, she wanted to believe he had made it out of the burning house, but then she would have to acknowledge that he abandoned her. No, not Julian—Remy—the secret identity of her husband or possibly dead husband, which she could never share with anyone ever. Lola hated secrets: secrets had always brought her trouble and pain. She missed Remy—the man she married, the man she was not sure she knew anymore, but someone she had thought she could love, did love. If he was alive: why did he not come to court? Perhaps he had faked his death to throw suspicion off of him, so he could not return to court for fear of his safety. But he would have left word, he would have given her a sign, she hoped he would, but after so many months this hope had shrunk and shrunk.

Kenna pondered for a moment. "What about Francis?"

Lola shyly shook her head: no.

Kenna made up her mind. "We have to find out who her mystery lover is."

"Why?"

"For you." Lola nearly rolled her eyes at this and made a face showing her distaste. This did not deter Kenna. "Well every since Francis publically claimed your baby you've been mooning about saying how no man will come near you because they think you're the king's mistress. This mysterious and exalted bachelor could be just the fun romance that you need. From what I've read he cares very little for a woman's station or reputation…Only that she's agile."

Lola stood up, her face pink. "You're mad. I can't go chasing after some strange man, I'm already the subject of relentless gossip."

"What do you have to loose? Besides—of which has anyone said anything to your face?"

"No," Lola admitted. But she could still hear the rumors, the hushed whispers, and laughter. She couldn't understand how Dianne or any woman could put up with that kind of constant chatter about oneself. Men looked when they thought she did not notice, but if she were to acknowledge them in any way the heads would turn away suddenly and she'd find herself alone.

"And they never will for fear of offending the king," Kenna continued. "So why not take a lover? Be with him a week or a year. It might not lead to marriage but it could lead to love or at least some fun." She gently shook Lola's arm. "You could use some fun Lola, admit it," she pleaded. Lola smiled at her friend's persistent attempts to ensure that everyone was as happy in love as she.

"I will only admit that I am curious who this man is."

Kenna smiled. "Well then let's find him and see if can inspire your curiosity for more." The two women stood up and walked down the breezeway arm-in-arm off to busy themselves with a mystery that did not particularly need solving.

The two tracked down a member of Catherine's Flying Squadron: a tall blonde named Marie. Kenna held out the journal and pointed to a passage describing the mystery lover with the butterfly birthmark.

"Do you recognize this man?" she asked.

"What's this about?" The three turned to find Catherine standing behind them. Kenna quickly tucked the journal under her arm, trying to hide the book from the Queen Mother, but it was too late: the older woman had spotted the journal and reached for it.

"Oh…_that_," she smirked, too familiar with the journal than Lola expected, amused at having come in contact with it again. Kenna and Lola exchanged a look of disappointment and frustration. Catherine dismissed Marie coldly: "You may go Marie…and please—your hair."

The beautiful blonde strutted away. Catherine held the book and flipped through the pages, "My ladies brought this to me months ago, I read it an hour."

Kenna tried to stifle a snort of laughter: Catherine de Medici, Queen Mother, poisoner, leader, and smut reader.

Catherine started to walk into the courtyard, while Kenna and Lola followed her.

"We thought one of your flying squad might know something about the men in that," Lola said.

Catherine grinned, one step ahead as always. "The hunter with the butterfly shaped birthmark? My money's on Lord Arris."

Lola thought of the young lord she had seen around at court: wasn't he one of the Scottish-born men that had remade themselves into French lords upon Queen Mary's engagement with Francis. "Why him? How do you know him?"

Kenna sneered, "Have you been sampling the court dishes yourself?" She knew this would hurt Catherine's pride, but instead the Queen Mother scoffed as if to say: of course, you idiot.

"Henry died, I live," Catherine replied before swiftly turning to Kenna, curious. "Are you moving on from that poor bastard of a husband of yours so quickly?"

"No."

Catherine quickly turned her attention to Lola, smiling at the realization that this search was for Lola. "Ooh, then it's you that seeks a lover!"

Lola shifted uncomfortably. _I will not give her the satisfaction. _

Kenna answered for her: "We are merely curious."

The Queen Mother narrowed her eyes at Kenna as if to say: _oh please!_

Catherine explained her time with the journal. "I read the book after I made…the acquaintance of Lord Arris," she smiled to herself. "I might offer to revisit and investigate but _a few certain someone's_ might get jealous."

Catherine started to hand back the book before removing it from Lola's reach to speak again: "Good luck with your search. You need it." Lola wondered if this was a cruel jest, another way for Catherine to jab more pain and insecurity her way: revenge for not naming her as John Philip's godmother. "Arris likes his women with a bit more _spark_." She handed Lola the journal with a sly smile. Lola pursed her lips out of mistrust for the woman. Even when Catherine treated her kindly and acted like a guardian, she was still Catherine de Medici: unknowable and not trustworthy in the least as far as Lola was concerned.

Kenna turned to her and clapped her hands with delight. "Lord Arris…he sounds handsome." She winked at Lola and started to form a strategy of where and how to find this Lord Arris, this mysterious lover.

As the afternoon became almost intolerably hot, Greer joined the two ladies, eager to be distracted by the journal. She had laughed when Kenna told her, shrugging off the tales of sex and passion.

"That's right," Kenna said, "you would have no idea of what sex is like."

"I know more than you think," Greer chimed. "I've slept down the hall from you for the past few weeks."

With drinks in hand the three ladies ducked under the shade of a tree.

"It's baking, when will it cool down?" Kenna moaned.

"Where's Mary?" Greer asked.

"I haven't seen her all day," Lola answered.

Kenna smiled. "That's because your eyes have been glued to that book."

Lola ignored this. "Mary will find us. She wouldn't miss your last day as an unmarried woman," she said to Greer. She wanted to believe this, but Mary was now the Queen of France and a married woman. She did not have much time for her childhood friends in the wake of the coronation.

Kenna moved towards the grand fountain a few yards away. "Yes your last hours of freedom before you become an utterly respectable and disgustingly wealthy mother of four." Without hesitating she placed her drink down and stepped into the fountain. Greer laughs at how little Kenna cared for public decorum.

"Kenna? What are you doing?!" Lola admonished.

"It's too hot, I'm cooling off."

Greer giggled, "Is it cold?"

Kenna grinned at the two: "It's heaven." Kenna twirled around in the water, enjoying the cool little waves while Greer and Lola sniggered. Kenna beckoned for her friends to join her. Greer smiled and handed Lola her drink before lifting her skirts to get into the fountain.

"Greer!" Lola gasped. Of all of girls in their group, Greer was usually so reserved and proper. Greer laughed at her own absurd behavior.

"Greer your dress!" Lola called, watching the fabric dip into the water.

"Oh no!" Greer turned to Lola with a playful look in her eyes. The bride-to-be splashed Lola. "Not your dress!"

Lola then flicked water at Greer in revenge. Soon a mad case of the giggles overcame them as the three sloshed water at each other. Greer was so overcome that she lost her balance and fell into the water. Lola held her breath for a moment, expecting for Greer to chastise herself for her behavior, but instead Greer popped out of the water wide eyed and grinning from ear to ear. She was overcome with chuckles.

"Are you alright?" Lola asked.

"Oh, just drenched," Greer replied. Kenna reached down to help her friend stand. She emerged completely soaked, but thoroughly entertained. Lola couldn't remember the last time they had all laughed this much together.

"Oh I should change before my mother finds me," Greer looked down at her wet clothes.

Kenna spied Greer's pudgy mother across the lawn. "You should hurry," she warned, "because I think I see her coming."

One final giggle passed between the three of them before Greer hurried towards the castle.

"I actually think Lord Castleroy has made Greer loosen up," Kenna beamed. "She smiles a lot more these days. Huh… I suppose I was wrong."

"About what?" Lola asked.

"Maybe Greer does love Lord Castleroy after all. I wouldn't have expected her to go through with it, especially since he's so much older and..."

"Age does not matter. Younger girls, girls much younger than us, have married older men before."

"I know, but I always saw Greer marrying some rich, tall baron with a curly blond mustache."

"That's oddly specific."

"When you're married you can't help but want to see your friends as happy as you are," Kenna searched the lawn for Bash, her eyes clouding over with lust.

"It's funny, how much has changed. How nothing is as I planned, as we planned. It feels like we've been here for so long…but I can never keep up with everyone at court. I miss the quiet, peaceful—"

"Are you serious? Do you know how many young women wish they could take our places here? They would not mope around—they would snatch the first eligible man they saw without hesitation." She squeezed Lola's hand. "You have to enjoy life Lola. This is all we have. Let it be enough for once."

Lola tried to follow Kenna's advice. She smiled politely and even managed to attract the attention of the Duke of Orleans. He did not know who she was at first, something she enjoyed. Men talked easily around her, flirty and elegant, until the found out that she was the mother of King Francis's child, then these flirty and elegant men would duck away with their tails between their legs. Usually after casting a long glance over her body. _The King of France explored that same body. That's the King's woman. _She hated that label. She was Francis's woman for less than a night. The romance she had thought they shared had long since disappeared. He had rushed into Mary's arms without a backward glance, even when her belly swelled and she became mysteriously absent from court for days at a time.

She felt a soft pair of hands grab her and pull her away. Kenna!

"That was the duke of Orleans!"

"He languishes at the bottom of the ratings," Kenna sneered while dragging her towards the top of the hill. "I've found the man that Catherine said is _the one_."

Lola stopped dead in her tracks, her mouth dropped open. "Lord Arris?"

"Yes he's over there talking to that lusty little countess."

Lola eyed the skinny brown haired man who seemed to be enjoying his conversation with an equally beautiful countess. Kenna fluffing Lola's long hair, fixing it over her shoulders. "So go, talk to him before she drags him off to her chambers," Kenna instructed.

"And do what? See if he has the mark and then what? I was just curious to know who the mystery man was."

This did not deter Kenna who prepped Lola's hair. "Well I wanted you to see that if you were to have a fling that it would be worth it. Just talk to him. See if there's more to him than…"

"The thing we know…"

Kenna smiled. "Exactly," she exclaimed, pushing Lola forward. "So go!"

Lola stumbled up to Lord Arris and countess who stared at her gaping mouth as she tried to find the right words. "Uh…hello." Behind her she heard Kenna chuckling, admiring her handiwork.

Lola sighed and attempted to start over. "I am Lady Lola, and you are…" _Apparently you are the best lover to ever enter French court in the past two years. _He was surprisingly young. Too young for Catherine, she thought.

Lord Arris smiled at the pretty young woman with long black curls and beautiful big lips. _Kenna what have you done?!_

Later at the wedding banquet Lola was able to talk to Lord Arris alone. She learned that he loved to swim and sail. But he did not say this outright, oh no, instead the topic of the sea found its way into every answer and question he gave, and each word used to describe the sea could easily be twisted into a flirtatious comment geared towards her. She could tell he was trying to be clever, with an eagerness that made him look as happy as the dolphins he was mentioning. The French loved dolphins, since they were the symbol of a royal prince. To Lola they were a symbol of freedom. She found herself in love with the concept of dolphins after an hour of chatting.

"We were out in the ocean sailing and a school of dolphins swam up all around us," Lord Arris explained, his face becoming even more attractive when animated and invested in a fond memory. She believed his eyes were his best feature: they were so full of life and warmth, containing the passion the journal had boasted of.

"Really?" Lola's eyes dropped down to his lips.

"They were so close, so wild, and one of them raised its head and looked at me."

It was then that Lola noticed Kenna mouthing words and motioning to her, asking if Lord Arris had the mark. Lola pressed her lips together and tried to wave her away without Lord Arris noticing.

"Have I said something?" He asked.

_Kenna, leave us alone! _

Lord Arris turned around to face Kenna, who immediately rested her arms at her sides and tried to look innocent.

"Uh sorry, uh…" Lola blundered. "What a wonder," she said, trying to recover the mood. "And what would he have said if he could?" She was dropped her net in casually. Lord Arris willingly flew into it.

"I understand more than you think." He pretended to speak for the dolphin, but Lola could tell this was only very thinly veiled flirting. "And it thrills me to see _you_." He accepted the bait. He gave her a dazzling grin, owning every fiber that made up his handsome appearance and charming countenance. Lola wondered if Lord Arris fit the journal's complete description of the fantastic lover. _If he extends his hand for a dance, perhaps then she could spot the birthmark. The journal said it was on his forearm or was it somewhere else?_

Lord Arris leaned closer. Lola quickly reviewed all of the dance steps she could remember. But he didn't ask for a dance: he asked for something better. "Lady Lola I can't promise dolphins, but is there any chance I can take you out sailing tomorrow?"

_Tomorrow._ He liked her enough to think about seeing her tomorrow. Lola conjured up picturesque images of the two of them on a small boat. She imagined the cool, blue waters caressing her skin. She imagined someone else caressing her skin. She knew she should not get her hopes up, but this was _France_: women enjoyed more freedom here than most countries. A woman's sexuality could be appreciated here if one found the right partner.

Lola grasped hold of her necklace and smile sweetly. She was about to answer _yes_ when Lord Narcisse appeared out of nowhere and clamped a hand on Lord Arris's back. "Lola," he greeted. She and Arris jumped, startled by the older man's sudden arrival. She noticed Arris wince, if not in pain then in fear. _Good_, she thought, _I am not the only person here that is scared of Lord Narcisse. _

Despite the scene she had witnessed of the man crying over Estelle's dead body, those tears were quickly tucked away in the following days when Lord Narcisse resumed his usual cold demeanor that sucked the joy and life out of every place he visited. This was the first time he had even looked at her—much less talked to her—since Estelle's death. Did he miss her? Did he grieve for his dead wife as she did, or was that all part of a show?

He turned to face her, attempting to pass a grimace off as a polite smile. At best this facial expression looked fake and at worse…

Narcisse looked at her when he spoke, but each word was for Lord Arris's ears only. "I've been meaning to congratulate you on the magnificent christening of your son Baron John Philip." Arris' head turned towards Lola so quickly she could hear his neck crack. Lola shot Narcisse a deadly glare: _stop_! _What are you doing you_—"The king was beaming—so proud of his son." Arris choked on his drink, nearly spitting wine into the air in his shock. Arris' eyes widened and he started to sweat.

"I didn't realize you're the mother of the new baron!" he stammered. She could see he was preparing to run.

"Well that's me…one and the same," she mumbled, trying to downplay this revelation.

"Well…" Arris began, stepping backwards ever so slightly. "Let me offer my congratulations as well. I must apologize, it slipped my memory. I'm leaving at first light so sadly, I should retire," and just like that he was off with his tail between his legs. He did not even bother to lend credence to this lie by walking towards the doors, instead he merely darted over to a circle of women, his face red and sweaty.

Lola lowered her eyes, disappointed. When she looked up she noticed a wicked gleam in Lord Narcisse's eyes.

"What was that piece of theater?" she spat. He deliberately turned his head as slowly as possible before facing her. This slow movement made her detest him: he looked arrogant and smug. She wanted to slap that smug grin off of his face. "You deliberately drove him away!" she scolded. He didn't listen to a word she said. His disinterest was written on his smug, overly satisfied face. Lola wanted to see him humbled, she wanted to see him scared, she wanted him to fear something that would wipe that slow, smug, satisfied grin off of that rich bastard's face.

Narcisse immediately dismissed her words. "I deliberately saved you valuable time and energy," he corrected her like a tutor, like she was an ignorant girl who had no idea what she was doing. _Damn him. _"Arris doesn't have the metal for you." Lola raised her eyebrows. _What gave him the right to assume that? What made him think that it was any of his business of what someone like Lord Arris had to do with her?_ Still he continued. "Other men would be afraid of getting close to you because they see you as the king's property—"

And now he was insulting her right to her face. How dare he! "_I am no one's property!_" Lola hated being thought of in those terms. She was not an object or a toy, something for Francis to play with when he was bored. She hated men who dared presume that women were simply property just because of what was between their legs. As if that had anything to do with the soul of a person.

Narcisse quickly tried to calm her, but his ghastly immetation of a grin only angered her more. "-Oh I don't see you like that." He paused purposefully, using this beat of silence to stress his point.

It was even worse when he didn't say anything. She could feel him studying her, examining every muscle that she moved. No wonder Estelle feared him. No wonder she would rather throw herself off a cliff than have to spend another moment with—_no!_ She reminded herself to attempt to be courteous. She would be polite. She would do her best _not_ to imagine herself kicking him someplace it would hurt and then stomping on his foot before leaving the room in a victorious act of defiance. On that last part she failed several times.

She wanted to look around the room for Mary, Francis, Kenna, anyone to come to her aid, but she didn't want to appear weak or frightened.

He was still talking, boasting. "But, unlike most men, I'm not afraid of the king." Lola narrowed her eyes. _Show your king the respect he deserves. You wouldn't have dared said such a thing to King Henry or to Catherine. _

He wasn't finished boasting yet. No, he continued talking and even leaning closer to her. She tried not to flinch. _I must look strong_. "In fact, I suspect Francis is somewhat afraid of me." _How dare he! He is your _king_ you bastard! _ Lola closed her eyes and tried to hold back her anger.

"Hmm, so am I." She cursed herself for saying that aloud. Yes she was afraid of him, but she shouldn't have told him that. She expected to see satisfaction in his face, but instead he remained unreadable outside of a general veneer of smugness and arrogance.

She was mistaken when she thought that he could be a better person than she had expected. She was mistaken when she thought he could ever care for anyone, much less grieve and cry over someone like Estelle. _We're all insects in your eyes. You don't even see people as deserving respect. We're worse than animals to you. _She imagined him to be a vicious hunter playing with the frightened animals he caught before he gutted them. Just like he was playing her.

Lord Narcisse tilted his head slightly. She could feel him register her fear in his mind. "And men are afraid of you so we're both feared." How could he compare her to _someone like him_? Why was he still here other than to taunt her?

But his next words made her unnerved. "It can be quite isolating can't it? It can leave one…lonely." Lola became aware that her mouth had dropped, gaping at him like an idiot. _He's toying with your emotions, trying to make you feel sorry for him like last time. Well he won't have such luck this time! _

"That's presumptuous of you," she clipped.

"And yet it's true. So…" He quickly glanced her over, all of her. She felt sweat gather on her back and she could feel the room suddenly become scorching hot. _Leave me alone. _She prepared herself to dart in the other direction, wanting to hide behind the spinning and dancing couples that littered the floor.

He was enjoying every tiny bit of her discomfort. She braced herself for another insult. So she was very surprised when he spoke that simple, innocent with anyone else phrase: "Why don't we get to know one another?"

"What?" she blurted out in a shocked whisper.

"Over tea." _Yes, a cup of tea filled with poison most likely. _

_ "Tea?!" _The logical part of her brain reminded her that he had no real reason to kill her. But the idea of sitting down to chat over little finger foods and tea looked ridiculous to her. _He wants it to look respectable, but he must have other plans. Why else would he bother? He thinks you're Francis's mistress. He thinks he can get information out of you. And this is moments after he bragged to my face about how little he respects the king. _If Francis, the King of France, was afraid of Lord Narcisse, then she knew this must be a trap. She believed he was trying to scare her, or befriend her, as a way of irritating Francis. What other reason could there possibly be?

Lord Narcisse, however, did not read into the obvious loathing in her voice. "You don't like tea?"

Lola arched her eyebrows and fired back an immediate, cruelly direct response: "I don't like _you._"

He almost looked happy to hear this. "You don't know me," he said, clearly amused.

"I know a little." She could see him thinking back to their meeting weeks before. She could tell he was remembering the secrets, or the lies, that he had told her. He was recalling the private shedding of tears, a moment of weakness, of outwardly _caring about something_.

"Well that's more than most," he replied honestly.

Lola sighed, composing herself. "A very odd but kind offer…" she then said the next few words coldly: "regrettably I must decline."

He saw through this and merely lifted the corners of his mouth into a smile. "Ah…it's an _open_ invitation."

Lola questioned his motives. She must know something he wishes to find out, or he thinks she knows something important. Whatever he wanted she would not give to him. This man must be using her. This man must be toying with her for show. This man…this man recently lost his son, his only son, and then his wife, his fourth wife died. Why did she feel pity for him? Yes, she did feel pity. She wanted to know how he could contain both sides of himself: the power hungry monster _and_ the lonely, grieving father and widower four times over. The world could be cruel and perhaps it had _turned _Narcisse into a cruel man. Lola didn't believe someone could be born bad and Lord Narcisse had more than his fair share of pain and troubles, but were they enough to warrant this cold, unfeeling exterior?

Narcisse turned to speak to another courtier nearby. "Xavier, you are a ghost," he laughed as if this were some sort of inside joke. _Everything must be a joke to him_, Lola thought. _Francis. Mary. Me._ Narcisse extended his arm to greet this Xavier. That's when she noticed it. A flash of skin caught her eye. It was peeking out from under Lord Narcisse's sleeve: the top of a birthmark with an antenna and wings.

"The butterfly…" she gasped. A wave of nausea filled her stomach. Her face became a bright shade of pink. She wanted to believe that this was an illusion, a trick of the mind, a dream, but there it was: Lord Narcisse was the advent hunter with the butterfly shaped birthmark, the lover that filled the pages of that journal, the mystery man that she had wondered about all day long, and possibly even fantasized about on and off that evening. That birthmark belonged to the cold man who had proudly stood before her bragging of his distaste for his king, who had placed a young woman in a cage out of fear of the plague, who had attempted to have Nostradamus drawn and quartered, who had stolen land from so many people, who had hurt so many and had been hurt himself many times over.

Just an arm's length away Narcisse spoke to Xavier, oblivious of Lola's shock. "Where have you been hiding yourself?"

He quickly looked at Lola for a brief second, a silent adieu. In this one second Lola's mind betrayed her: instantly her thoughts were filled with images of Narcisse preforming the same sexual acts as they were described in the journal. These images were of intense passion, of faces filled with pleasure, of every single sexual act Lola had ever heard of, of every act she could imagine a man doing. These quick heated flashes of images were accompanied by the sounds of moaning, groaning, of screaming in satisfaction. Kissing, biting, licking, sucking. She felt an unbearable heat everywhere. She was going to be sick. She couldn't breathe. She was only aware of these visions of him, the mystery lover, just as _he_ stood right before her in the flesh, looking into her eyes for that second, seeing the state she was in. Wondering. Thinking. Fantasizing. Her face, her palms, all of her skin was drenched in perspiration. He turned away leaving her shaking body behind.

She had to leave this room immediately. She forced her feet to move in the direction of the doors. Her pace became faster and faster. She could not comprehend the presence of any other specific person in the room, only that a large mass of blurry faces and loud music blocked her exit and drilled into her ears. She pushed past the dancers, the spectators, the courtiers, and the nobles. She fell into the hall and stumbled towards the steps. She raced up to her chambers, relieved that the rest of the castle felt cool and mercifully empty as the sounds of the festivities behind her grew fainter. She made it into her rooms where she could breathe normally. She sat on the cold stone floor, letting the cool air calm her.

Lola heard her little John Philip cry out from the nursery. She wiped the sweat off of her face and went to her son. He was thirsty, as usual. The wet nurse scuffled around in a nearby room, racing to reach the boy before he woke anyone.

"I will do it," Lola stated, not negotiating with the nurse. The nurse helped her undress quickly. Lola wrapped her pinkie around the baby's hand to assure him of her presence. _I hear you my love. _When she was free of her heavy garments, she placed her baby at her breast. Of course he was not thirsty anymore.

Lola realized her defeat and handed the boy back to the wet nurse. "Lady Lola…" the nurse gave her a concerned look.

"This was a long day. I will retire now." Lola collapsed in her bed and her thoughts wondered to places she wishes they would not return to. She glimpsed his smiling face relaxing in the afterglow. She saw his joy. She rolled over in bed, trying to block these thoughts out, but the more she tried to ignore them, the more they grew and the stronger they became. Her body pulsed with hated thought after hated thought. If Kenna asked about the birthmark she would lie. Then if Kenna kept asking, Lola would burn the journal and ensure that she was never alone with Lord Narcisse again. She did not like him, she did not trust him, but she could not stop thinking about the journal entries involving the man with the butterfly birthmark.


	3. Chapter 3

The letter was delivered at breakfast, a brutal blow served between bread, butter, and a wedge of cheese. Lola, Kenna, and Bash breakfasted together in Lola's suit. Lola was grateful that she had one friend at the castle that remembered her existence. She would rather watch Kenna and Bash fawn over each other over breakfast than have to spend the morning eating in silence while the nanny fed her son in the next room.

The two women felt Greer's absence clearly that morning. They had watched Greer—Lady Castleroy—leave in her carriage with her husband and stepchildren a few days before. They had not received any letters from Greer in that time. Kenna said that Greer wouldn't have time for letter writing, not on her honeymoon. At this moment Lola quickly changed the subject, uncomfortable at the thought of Greer and Lord Castleroy in bed together.

It was around this point that the letter arrived. "My family," Lola said motioning towards the letter.

"You can read it, we don't mind," Kenna spoke for her husband and herself.

While Kenna and Bash started to discuss (or rather Kenna discussed) how Francis should make better use of his brother's skills, Lola skimmed the first few lines of the letter. She froze in her seat.

"It's not like you're a constable," Kenna told her husband. "You could persuade the nobles on Francis's behalf. They won't expect you to—"

"They don't take me seriously," Bash interrupted.

"You can make them take you seriously. You're the king's brother. That counts for something." Nearby the baby, little Jean-Philip started wailing. Bash covered his ears.

"Uh, excuse me—I have some business to attend to," Lola spat out before rushing from the room.

She managed to make it to the breezeway before the tears started to overflow. Her family hated her. She could never go home again due to her disgrace, her shame. The paper bubbled with hatful words and cruel names a parent should never call their own child. She was no longer their daughter.

"What are you doing out here all by yourself?" Lola turned around to see Kenna walking towards her. Lola quickly folded the letter and tried to hide it.

"I, uh, had to get away," she answered. "The nannies, the servants, the hangers-on who think they'll impress Francis by taking an interest in his son."

"Is that why you've been crying?" Kenna asked with concern.

Lola looked down at her feet and took a deep breath before speaking. "My family heard the Francis has claimed my son."

"And it didn't go well? But he's the king of France?"

"As far as they're concerned that just makes the disgrace even worse." Lola stepped forward and started to pace. "My name is on everyone's lips so I'm notorious." She couldn't keep the tears hidden any longer. A sob arose from her mouth. "They've disowned me. Cut me off."

"Oh Lola, I'm so sorry."

"I'll never be admitted into the house again. No one will even mention my name there. This is the last letter I'll ever get from home. And my new home is full of strangers and I'm trapped here with them. Even Francis and I are strangers these days so…stiff with each other." Sure Lola and Francis were never as close as Lola was with her other friends, but their mutual bond with their son gave them reason to talk to each other frequently. Now these talks were less frequent. Almost non-existent in the past few weeks.

Kenna tried to instill some wisdom. "This is why women like you and me need to prepare for the future. Hold on to the jewels, to any gifts of land, anything can happen. I was in a similar position, remember? I had a lot of time to think with Henry and kings are no guarantee of anything. Kings have enemies, war, rivals. And what's the first thing a rival does when he takes the throne? He kills the sons of the previous king."

"Kenna!" Lola admonished. "You're not cheering me up, you know!" The thought had never occurred to her before, but now Lola pictured someone throwing her little boy out a window. The two of them were only safe if Francis favored them. But if Francis himself were in danger, there would be no one left to protect them. Lola wanted to believe that Catherine or Mary would reach out to help with Jean-Philip, but doubt nagged at her. _Mary will protect Francis and herself before she helps me and my child._ Kenna tried to apologize. "No, I'm telling you this to protect you. Should Francis ever be deposed, you need to be prepared to take your child and flee. Start building a nest and ask for more expensive jewelry."

"That's the problem. God willing Francis will live a long and healthy life and I'll be dependent on him forever." Doubt nagged at her again. "I don't want jewels, I just want something of my own. Something no one can take away."

Kenna scoffed wryly. "Lola, we're women. We're not allowed to have things of our own. Legally Bash even owns my coal sticks and lip rouge. I would like to see him try to take those away."

Lola smiled half-heartedly, imagining Bash holding one of Kenna's coal sticks and rouge—things men like Bash would never understand. Then a thought hit her.

"But I don't have a husband. Or a family anymore." She had an idea. "Legally no one has a right to what is mine. So if I can get some money of my own I can keep it. And I will."

* * *

><p>The morning became filled with determination and purpose, two feelings Lola gladly took over tears.<p>

However the purposeful morning turned into a dreary afternoon. First, Lola was turned down by the bank. Her dowry would now go to Julian's father back in Hungary, the father of the man she did not marry, a man she had never even met. Then an hour later Kenna had pulled her aside nearly in tears with the news that Mary and Catherine were missing.

"What do you mean?" Lola asked. Kenna lowered her voice so as not to draw the attention of on-lookers.

"Their carriage was found abandoned near the woods. You can't tell anyone. We have to keep this a secret. Bash swore everyone to secrecy. Francis left to look for them, so Bash is now ruling in his place. We've told everyone that Francis is just going hunting. No one can suspect anything, it's too dangerous if the wrong people hear!"

Since this disturbing news was kept out of the public's reach, the rest of the courtiers carried on as if this were an ordinary day. There was dancing and eating, gossiping and drinking. People smiled and smiled, blissfully unaware that two queens were missing.

Lola had to think positively, so she reminded herself that perhaps Mary and Catherine went for a walk and became lost. Surely they could find their way back to the castle. This comforting lie was not very comforting for long. She had to pretend that she was not panicking inside. She had to smile politely and chat with nosy courtiers. She had to act like her biggest concern at the moment came from deciding which dress she and the other women at court would wear to celebrate little Prince Henri's birthday. After enduring such mind-numbing chatter for nearly an hour, Lola had to breathe. She sat down on one of the couches and tried to look uninviting. Of course her peace did not last for long.

"Lady Lola." A part of her groaned in annoyance. She looked up to see Lord Narcisse approaching her. "My sympathies…on the matter of your dowry." He then plopped himself down on the couch beside her completely uninvited.

"How did you know about that?" _What else do you know? Do you know that Mary and Catherine are missing? I am sure this must please you immensely. _

"I'm the largest depositor in that bank," Narcisse answered simply. "I dine with the bankers often, they're very good company. Fingers in every pie, full of gossip. And very eager to keep me happy." This was a subtle form of boasting in Lola's eyes. This man couldn't talk for five minutes without doing something to remind everyone of his wealth and power. He turned to her with a polite smile on his face. "There's still time, I could use my influence on your behalf."

Lola wanted to scoff in disbelief, but instead she could only ask: "In return for…?"

He smiled and answered "Tea," as if this were the simplest thing in the world. _Men like Narcisse do not offer their help anyone. They expect something in return and it certainly isn't tea,_ Lola reminded herself.

She shook her head is disbelief. "Tea?"

"A cup or two. And the pleasure of your company." She held back a snort. "I have extended the invitation before," he reminded her.

She forced herself to smile politely. "Thank you, but I'm not sure it's a good idea."

She detected disappointment on his face. "Well…I would never want to press a lady," he said before he stood up. "But, I do hope you reconsider the invitation." He then graced her with another one of those smug smiles that he always wore before bowing and leaving.

A few minutes later Lola found Kenna in the corridor and told her the story. "He wants you to join him for tea?" Kenna asked incredulous. "Surely that can't mean _tea._"

"No. Perhaps he wants to pry secrets from me about Francis." Lola believed that would be the only reason a snake like Narcisse would talk to her.

Kenna grinned as she spoke of another reason: "Or he might simply want to seduce you." She then turned serious. "Either way its best to stay far away from him since last time we talked you thought he'd murdered his wives."

"I was wrong. I learned they'd died of natural causes," Lola replied.

Kenna stopped her. "Did you learn that from Narcisse?"

Lola paused, searching for an answer. "Alright, yes. But you haven't spoken to him and I have. He seems very believable. Besides if things got out of hand I could simply walk out. He wouldn't dare try to keep me there by force." _I would not let him. _

"I once thought I could play a powerful man and I've lived to regret it," Kenna stated sadly. It was easy for Lola to forget that the rest of court must believe that Lola and her friend were exactly alike: mistresses of kings. The term mistress was for women like Dianne, Lola thought. She thought of herself as a mistake on Francis's part.

Lola started to walk away, feeling the need to cheer Kenna up with a witty retort. "Oh by the way, there's something I haven't told you. He is the man from the journal with the butterfly birthmark."

Kenna's eyes widened. She rushed forward to learn more, gawking at the back of Lola's head. "He's the surprise lover? You didn't think to share that with me?"

Lola shrugged.

"Well this explains your change of heart. Even more reason to be cautious. If you're intrigued with him it just makes you more vulnerable."

"I'm not intrigued," Lola shot back defensively. "I have no interest in Narcisse."

Kenna didn't buy it. "You're telling me that that birthmark doesn't make you slightest bit curious?"

Lola tried to suppress the urge to smile. "No. It doesn't."

* * *

><p>As the carriage approached Lord Narcisse's chateau, Lola pondered what she should say to him. She would be polite and courteous at first, but she would have ask him directly at some point: <em>Why would someone like you bother to help me? I know the reason has nothing to do with tea. <em>

He was waiting for her when she arrived. First he gave her a very brief tour of the grounds. Then he ushered her towards the gardens behind the house where they sat in awkward silence awaiting the arrival of tea. Eventually he brought up the subject of her dowry, wondering to know why she suddenly wished to take it back. She told him the truth believing he would see right through her if she lied. She was thankful for the delivery of tea by a servant that eyed her curiously. It was then that Lola noticed the guards standing behind them and another pair of guards closer to the house. She felt their eyes wonder over her as they tried to figure out the reason for her visit. Once she left she was sure they would smirk and gossip amongst each other in the servants hall that night or they would pity her, either way they would suspect that there was more to this visit than tea.

Speaking of tea, so far that and some minor chatting were the only reasons for this visit. They did not say much, but she could feel his cat-like eyes watching her every movement as she spoke or stayed silent, as she shifted nervously in her seat, and whenever she brought the cup to her lips to sip more tea.

She could not understand why he had asked her to meet at his chateau when they could have had this conversation at the castle. She supposed this meeting place was meant to unnerve her or chosen as a way of showing off his wealth and power once more in a more tangible form. He struck her as being very vain like any rich man, but she wondered if his reasons for showing off his wealth came from some form of insecurity. Lord Castleroy, Greer's new husband—how odd it felt to define Greer as a _wife_ now—was a humble man who never felt the need to show off his wealth or overdress himself in public because he was too rich to care and too comfortable with himself to bother trying to impress people. Lord Narcisse struck her as being Castleroy's complete opposite: Narcisse always wore splendid clothing with vibrant colors, he felt the need to bring up his status in every conversation, and his movements were both those of a self-absorbed peacock when strutting around the castle, or of a watchful lion—a predator, a proud symbol of royalty. Even if he was not related to the royal family, he still carried himself with the knowledge that he was as rich—if not richer—than the Valois.

His watchful stare both unhinged and thrilled her in a way. It was nice to have a man look at her and not see her as the king's plaything or mistress. But surely he had something dangerous hidden up his sleeve. Lola had a plan already formed in her head if his mood should turn forceful: she would take the butter knife before her and brandish it at him if he threatened her. If he still proceeded towards her, she would stab him in the eye. A butter knife might not cause too much damage by itself, but attacking someone would be rather difficult if they are missing an eye. Then he'd have to explain how _that_ happened to everyone at court.

But so far he had not made any move towards her. Her guard was still up, but she found herself becoming more relaxed as time passed. She was able to loosen her grip on cup and even started to enjoy the view of the gardens from this angle. She took one last sip before setting her cup down. "So," she started, "this is really tea."

He ran a finger over his lips, letting out a quiet, "hmmm."

"These house and gardens are my sanctuary," he explained.

"But you keep chambers at court as well."

"Yes, court is what I need sanctuary from." She nodded in agreement. _He's not the only one in that respect_, she thought. Two archery targets caught her eye. He noticed her interest. "Care to try your skill?" he asked.

He stood up, placed his napkin on the table, and walked over to the rack of bows, taking her silence for a curious _yes_.

"I've never even held a bow," Lola admitted as she followed him.

He looked at the selection of bows intently. "Let's see. You're right handed so _this _one should do."

"Well I might be left-handed. Some people are."

"But not you."

He handed her the bow. She looked at it with some confusion. Sure she had seen people draw and shoot arrows before and Francis always made it look so easy, but now she was not sure. "May I?" he asked, interrupting her thoughts. He held up a leather vambrace and, before she could protest, started to roll up her sleeve, exposing her forearm. He looked up at her for a moment with a twinkle in his eyes, up to no good. He then started to wrap the vambrace around her forearm.

As he started to fasten each string, he spoke: "This is the vambrace. It goes on the non-dominant arm because the stakes in this game can hurt." He said this last part with a smile as he fastened the last buckle, which pinched her skin slightly.

She then mimicked the way Francis held his bow, drawing this new bow without any difficulty. She wanted to impress him, she wanted to _win_, whatever that meant.

"You have good instincts." She pulled back her arm, prepared to draw, but he stopped her from stretching her arm further back. "No, no." He leaned in closer and adjusted her position. "You're too quick. The eye is more important than the hand." He helped her draw the bow again, properly this time, pulling the bow back until her thumb nearly touched the corners of her mouth. He helped lift her elbow properly and made her position her hand lower down the bow, straightening her aim. "See your target," he instructed, his voice tickling her ears. "Understand what you're aiming for, don't just physically let it fly." She quickly sneaked a glance at him when he was not looking at her. This must be his favorite way to butter women up, Lola suspected. At least here she would not have nosy courtiers glancing at her and gossiping amongst themselves. The servants and the guards could see them though. They too watched her intently.

Narcisse continued to instruct her. "Uh…Site the center. The rest of the circles are irrelevant." Lola closed one of her eyes. She had seen archers do this before they released their bow. He relaxed his grip on her and pulled away. Now free from his grasp she shot the arrow, opening both of her eyes as she did so. To her delight she hit the center of her target. She gasped in surprise, smiling. She turned to him for a moment before looking back at the target pleased with her effort.

"Congratulations. Of course the beginning is often promising," he broke into a smirk before adding, "the trick is to keep it going that way." Lola was determined to not let him brush off her victory, so she held his gaze for a moment, still celebrating her triumph. He could spout double entendres all day long if he liked, but Lola still beamed at the fact that she had hit the center of the target on her first try. But this was exactly what Narcisse had wanted.

* * *

><p>When she returned to the castle Lola found that Catherine and Mary were still missing. The charade had gone on long enough, Lola thought. Once she found Bash she would tell him to send more men out to search for the queens—damn what other people thought. Soon it would be dark and Mary and Catherine would never be able to find their way back to the castle at night.<p>

At this moment, however, the sun was still up, but only barely. The late afternoon was quickly turning into the brief moments of sunset. As the sun started its decent for the evening, the grand hall was basked in a glowing gold light. The musicians played a soft, sweet tune on the harp. Many young couples danced slowly together. It would have been a romantic moment if Lola were not afraid for Mary's life—and Catherine's too. She had to admit that the older woman knew how to instill the fear and wrath of God in enough nobles to keep France afloat, a skill Mary and Francis had yet to learn.

Lola caught sight of Bash talking to the Venetian envoy on the other side of the room. She strode purposefully through the crowd towards them.

"This music's charming," a voice said beside her. She turned around and saw Narcisse following her. "But," he continued, "it would be much more charming if _you_ were dancing to it." She expected that he was a wonderful dancer but that his grip was too tight and forceful for most women.

Her face reddened, exasperated. _I don't have time for this! _"What do you want from me?" she blurted out with more hostility than she had expected.

He tried to act innocent. "I want to help with your dowry. I could help with some other suggestions too."

_I have a suggestion for you_, she thought, _leave me alone!_

He continued on, ignoring her frustration. "For instance this would be a beautiful night for a bath." This last word made his lips turn up in a sly, mischievous grin. _You think you're so clever, don't you? You think it's so much fun to laugh at everyone. _

"A bath?"

"You can see the stars from the chamber in the North Keep. It's a lovely room to bathe in. Though the window is large it's not overlooked by anybody." His lips slipped into a sneaky smile once more. "Except the pair of it opposite…though hardly anyone goes there."

Once she figured his true intentions out, she turned red. Lola wanted to shout at him and put him in his place, but there were too many people around. _How dare he!_

_Of course there's a price. Why else would he want to help me?_

Her anger turned into disappointment then outrage.

"Are you seriously, seriously suggesting that you want to watch me bathe in exchange for getting my dowry back?"

He pretended to be shocked. "That is quite a leap. I would never speak so bluntly in front of a lady. I'll simply say that _midnight_ is a very fine time for a bath. The world's so quiet then you could believe you're the only one in it." He paused, still smiling. "I'll leave you to consider the advantages."

With that he left, leaving Lola behind to gape at him furiously.

Her first instinct was to refuse. Then she thought of how she could turn the tables on his offer. She could send one of the older courtiers in her place, let him peek at the seventy-three year old count and countess that were situated a few rooms down from her. Or she could go and instead of bathing do something mundane there instead, like read a book or some other act that would disinterest him. Then she had another idea. This one made her smile.

* * *

><p>Around half past eleven Kenna ran into Lola's room nearly in tears with relief. "Francis found them!"<p>

"Thank god!" Lola cried.

"Mary went straight to bed, but tomorrow we should celebrate or tell her how relieved we are. I would go now but she's with Francis."

"Let them sleep," Lola instructed. "Mary and Catherine have had a long day. They must be tired. We all are."

At this moment her laundry maid, Jacquette, entered Lola's bedchamber. "Is it time, my lady?"

"Time for what?" Kenna asked.

"A bath," Lola answered nonchalantly.

A few minutes later Lola and Jacquette walked up the stairs. Jacquette nearly skipped at the prospect of a nice, warm bath to herself. As a servant she had to share a tub with the other maids, they would take a quick soak one after the other, so by the time it was her turn the water would be murky and cold. But this bath would be just for her. Lola had told Jacquette that someone might be watching, but the young woman didn't mind, since she was too excited at the prospect of cleanliness and solitude to care.

After the two separated, Lola searched for the room that stood opposite the North Keep. Eventually she found him standing on the dark balcony, staring at the window across from them. She had him trapped, just as she had planned. Lola watched Narcisse watch Jacquette for a moment. He thought he was a David spying his lovely Bathsheba on the rooftop when he was Actaeon, a hunter about to be turned into a stag after inducing the wrath of Artemis, the Greek goddess of the hunt. She too was talented with a bow. Lola remembered that the Romans called Artemis Diana, which instantly made her think of Bash's mother Diane de Portieres. Dianne was an attractive and intelligent woman and Catherine was clever and sneaky. Tonight Lola followed their lead. The hunt was glorious.

Finally she spoke. "You're right." The sound of her voice made him jump. He turned around, his mouth rounded with surprise. "It is a beautiful night for a bath."

Instead of scowling at the prospect of being bested by a woman like Lola expected, Narcisse broke into a wide grin.

Lola explained her trick. "So I offered the use of the tub and five gold pieces to the servant who does my laundry." Narcisse looked to the woman bathing noticing that this was a different woman before turning back to Lola.

To her surprise he continued to smile and chuckle.

"I warned her that someone might look. She said that for five gold pieces the entire castle could watch."

"Well played."

She chuckled, smiling at her success.

"And I should tell you that I've already stopped the transfer of your dowry to Hungary," Narcisse admitted. "It's yours."

Now it was Lola's turn to open her mouth in surprise and smile gratefully.

"And I would be honored to be of any further service in the future," he continued, bowing courteously. "And I want you to know that I do understand."

"Understand?"

"Why you wanted your dowry back. With it you can stay or go as you wish, it means you haven't surrendered to your life at court. You can still make your own decisions." Without skipping a beat he spoke these next few sentences with his eyes shinning, "Perhaps find love again. Get married. I have the same wish."

Lola ignored this last part. "Most people seem to think that women shouldn't have such freedom."

"Ah, but you clearly haven't listened to those people." _And I never will. "_For a woman impatient with court ways you're becoming quite an intriguing game player."

Lola stepped forward. "The beginning is often promising." She purposefully placed her hand over his, letting her touch shock him for a moment. The look on his face delighted her. "The trick is to go on that way."


	4. Chapter 4

Lola was tending to Jean-Philip when Francis barged into her rooms, his face pink as he fumed with rage.

"Francis!" she cried out with surprise.

"How well do you know Lord Narcisse?" he spat out.

The nanny instantly raised her eyebrows out of shock. Lola turned to the woman and motioned for her to leave the room. "Leave us please, try to feed Jean-Philip some bread, he should be old enough now. If not I'm sure he'd love to feed the ducks at the pond." The nanny nodded and left the room carrying Lola's little boy in her chubby arms.

Lola turned to Francis who had calmed himself by now. "What do you mean?"

"Bash told me that you visited his estate a few days ago. Do you deny this?" Francis asked.

_Bash? _Lola thought, _What does Bash have to do with this? _

"Uh…No…" she sighed. "It's true I've been spending time with Narcisse, but I'm not sure it's any of your concern."

She attempted to walk away from him, but he wouldn't leave it at that. "Lola," Francis called to her, gently this time, "I don't judge you, but Narcisse is dangerous."

Lola paused. Everyone at court was dangerous in one-way or another. Narcisse hadn't harmed her in any way yet, nor had he treated her too ungentlemanly (except for that one request involving a bath). She couldn't understand why Francis thought he was dangerous, but then again Mary and Francis never told her anything about politics. They only talked to her when Francis wanted to see her baby or when Mary wanted to complain about Francis. No one ever asked for her opinion. No one told her anything.

"And yet you seem willingly to embrace him politically," she answered finally.

Francis twiddled his thumbs uncomfortably before asking his next question. "I just want to know: have you grown close to him? What's between you?"

"I'm not sure…I-I…He's let me know he's interested is all." This was the only reason she could think of for his behavior of late. These games and tests must have all been done to let her knew that he was interested in her…interested in sex or marriage, or maybe both, beyond that Lola couldn't tell.

Francis took a breath. "Would he be surprised if you went back to his estate?"

Lola raised an eyebrow. "A moment ago you said he was dangerous."

"He is. More than you know, which is why I must ask you, _for me_, to go there tonight." Lola tilted her head, listening intently. "Tell him that you were on your way back to the castle and your horses needed attending. And when you're admitted—" he pulled an envelope out of his robes with a shaking hand, "hide this envelope somewhere he won't find it."

Lola looked at the envelope with alarm. "Well…what is it?"

"I can only say that it's insurance should he make himself an enemy to the crown." Of course he wouldn't tell her any more. Did he really think she couldn't handle the truth or keep his secret? She had spent many months keeping _their_ secret. What was so different about this one?

"Where am I supposed to hide it?" she asked. "It's not as if he leaves me alone for hours."

"You'll find an opportunity," Francis said as if this wasn't a problem.

She shook her head in disbelief. "Francis, you're asking me to deceive and betray a powerful man for you."

Francis looked down at his feet, pausing. "You're not a French subject. I cannot order you to do this. So I am asking you to trust me."

_Trust goes both ways_, she thought.

"Lola, based on all you know of both of us, I'm asking you to _choose _who you think is the better man. If you think it's me, help me to take control of a man who would be willing to spill any amount of blood to get what he wanted."

He extended the envelope towards her, his eyes begging for her to take it. He would tell her no more, but still he trusted her enough to do this. He was her king, the father of her child, and even, possibly, her friend. He trusted her enough. But she wished he would trust her enough to tell her the truth. Fear crept into those big brown eyes, eyes belonging to the man she desperately wanted to trust. She did not love him in a romantic sense, but her relationship with him was deeper than her connections with Mary and Bash of late. Greer and Kenna were her best friends, while Mary was her queen. But Francis was so much more than that, something much more complicated than a friend or a lover. Jean-Philip depended on him. Lola depended on him. _Trust me_, he said, as if Lola's life was that simple.

Her fingers twitched with hesitation before grasping the envelope with a trembling hand. She looked up at those large brown eyes that shone with relief.

Trust goes both ways.

That night instead of readying herself for Princess Claude's homecoming, Lola had her hair tied up in a knot and the envelope stashed away in the inside of her dress as she reached Narcisse's house. The paper scraped against the side of her leg and left tiny paper cuts along the edge of her thigh.

One of the servants met her at the door, his eyebrows rising in surprise. _A guest at this hour? _She wondered if he and the other servants thought she was Narcisse's mistress. _Why else would a beautiful young woman visit a rich and powerful lord at such an hour? Visiting at night without any warning or notice ahead of time._ There would be gossip; there always was when Lola was involved.

"I am here to see Lord Narcisse. I am Lady Lola. My driver has already taken the liberty of letting my horses into your—Lord Narcisse's stables. Is that alright?"

"I will take the matter to my lord directly," the servant replied before leaving to search for his master. Lola waited in the doorway looking for a place to hide the envelope. _No, not here_, she thought when she saw another servant walk up to her. This next servant led her inside, eyeing her with as much curiosity as the first.

She wondered how Narcisse would react to hearing of her visit. Would he be annoyed that she arrived unannounced at night? Would he be puzzled and curious? Or would he be pleased at her visit? She imagined him hearing the news, his lips slipping into a smile at the mention of her name. The envelope was still hidden on her, ready to be planted somewhere.

She heard Lord Narcisse before she saw him. His footsteps echoed through the halls. His face shone with delight at the sight of her.

"Lady Lola—" he greeted, courteous as usual.

"I apologize for the hour, but I'm on my way home from the village and—"

"It's a pity you had not come sooner for I have just finished supper. I was in need of some good company."

"Sorry, but my carriage—"

"Whatever you need. I've sent some of my servants to help your horses. I'm sure they must famished. It is quite hot outside at this time of night."

Lola knew he said this as a double entendre, but the heat was immense. When they entered his apartments Lola was already sweating. She tried to calm herself but nothing about her behavior felt natural. She hoped that if Narcisse noticed her nervous behavior he would attribute it to the shock of being in his presence, instead of the real reason why the back of her neck was covered in sweat. She was intensely aware of every potential sound the envelope might make whenever she moved.

The servants that set down their tea looked very amused at her visit here, smirking slightly at each other after they eyed her and her dress. She had dressed this way to make it appear like she was about to attend the Princess's party, when in fact she dressed herself in these refined garments for him. He always wore grand clothing when at court to show off his station. Tonight it was her turn.

The roaring fire nearby did not quell her nerves. Instead it intensified heat in the already humid room and her dress, which was damp with perspiration.

Narcisse studied her with those all seeing, cat-like eyes. "Your hair's different," he commented finally.

"Uh, there's a shop in the village that sells the loveliest hairpieces." This part was true; she had even visited that shop and bought a hairpiece from there as a part of her ruse. He nodded, his amused facial expression making her face turn pink. Lola looked down at her hands and chuckled quietly. "You're not really interested in the details of my hair are you?"

"No. Just the hair."

She knew she had to tell him her reason for visiting and this was the perfect chance. "Yes, well, uh, I-I was on my way back to court from the village, as I said, and realized my horses needed tending," she stammered. "Thank you for that, by the way."

He smiled. "Of course."

She suddenly worried that he thought she was here for sex. Quickly she thought of a way to dissuade him: "But I shouldn't stay long. There's a welcome home party for Princess Claude—a boat party." Then she politely asked: "Will you be there?"

He shook his head, "no." Her face fell, disappointed by his answer. She couldn't understand why a part of her was so disappointed that he wouldn't be there. _I suppose talking to him at the boat party would be easier than sitting here in his house with this enveloped strapped to my—_

Narcisse continued to talk. "Why sail above the water when you could submerge yourself and enjoy it directly?"

It took her a moment, but then she realized what he meant and smiled nervously. "A bath? Again? Are you serious?"

"Yes."

"What is it about you and baths?" that slipped out before she could control her thoughts and her mouth.

"Well perhaps I'll tell you…as you bathe."

The smile faded from Lola's face and was replaced by lines of worry. She thought about it for a moment, but her instincts got the best of her.

"Draw it for me." The answer him and it surprised her too. She hadn't agreed to the bath _only_ to find time to hide the envelope.

Narcisse stood up, pleased by her sudden choice. "I'll fetch a servant."

"Uh, no—" she stammered as she leapt to her feet. "You." She said this word with such a commanding tone she almost didn't believe the word had come out of her mouth. This Lola was cold and fierce, strong and clever. The real Lola tried her best not to tremble.

Narcisse turned around and looked at her with surprise once more. "Look at you making demands already." Lola held her breath expecting his criticisms. Instead he smiled, pleased. "You're learning."

She forced herself to smile back at him before he left the room. Once he was gone she gasped and tried to collect herself. She turned around and looked for a place to hide the envelope. She noticed the painting on the wall behind where she had been sitting.

The painting was of three men hunting a deer. _How fitting_, she thought when she looked at it. The main figure was on horseback flocked by hounds as they chased after a deer. The animal appeared to be attempting to escape through some trees or shrubbery. She noticed in the corner of the painting that a woman or a girl—the figure was difficult to make out—sat at the top of the hill under a tree watching the men hunt.

_Again, quite fitting._

This was her chance and she decided to take it. She lifted up the back of the painting with shaking fingers. The doorknob rattled and Lola froze in alarm. When no one entered she quickly took the envelope from inside her dress and placed it behind the painting. She then shifted the canvas back to its proper place, leaving the envelope stuck behind the painting. She heard his footsteps outside the door.

Narcisse entered with a bottle of wine and a glass in hand. He noticed her nervousness right away.

"Here, while you wait, a little something to help you relax," he poured her a drink, "—because you seem a little nervous."

He handed her a glass and she gratefully took a long sip from it without a second thought. _I really need this right about now!_

He held out his hand, which she nervously accepted. His fingers were as cold as ice, but his palms radiated with warmth. From there he led her into his apartments, smirking as they passed his chambers before entering his wardrobe that connected to the bathroom. In the middle of the room there was a tub, which was settled in the shadow of another large fireplace. Near the fire there was a bucket of water that was being warmed by the flames.

"Would you like cold water or do you prefer the heat?" he asked, unsubtly flirting with her.

"Warm will do."

He rolled back his sleeves, showing off the pale skin of his forearms and the butterfly birthmark that lay there. He poured the warm water into the tub with care. Before leaving her to her own devices, he smiled and offered to assist her if she ever needed anything. When the door shut and he was finally gone, Lola could breathe again. She stared at the door with uncertainty, wondering if he would dare enter while she bathed. She knew she could count on it. Once she saw his shadow move away from the door and heard the sound of his receding footsteps, she quickly undressed herself.

The water was warm and comfortable, but she couldn't get herself to relax. Minutes rolled by and still she could not shake the nervous beads of sweat from her body. Then there was a quick succession of knocks upon the door. The door swung open and Lola brought her knees up to her chest, blocking the view of the rest of her body from prying eyes.

Of course _he_ came back with a drink in hand and a towel draped over his arm, having no qualms about her nakedness. His eyes wondered over the tub and her body without shame. He closed the door behind him, sealing her in the room with no exit or defense. Lola didn't think Narcisse would hurt her, but she couldn't help but be worried that she had nothing to defend herself but her nails and wet, slippery hands. She covered herself even more, sinking further under the water, but still he approached her.

"You asked me what it was about baths that I liked and I suppose that it's the vulnerability," he admitted seriously. "The sense of comfort one feels—covered, embraced." He let those last two words sink in. "When in fact…one is quite exposed."

She pressed her legs together tightly and covered the rest of herself with her hands. Seeing a naked woman would be nothing new for him, just as letting a man see herself naked had happened three times before with Colin, Francis, and Remy. But still she wanted to shied her body from his eyes, not out of trust or fear, but because she didn't want to give him the satisfaction. _I owe you nothing, especially not my body._

"Why are you here?" he asked without a trace of his usual sly and smug self.

"I told you, I was on my way back from the village." She hoped her voice didn't quake.

He set his drink down on a table and continued to talk. "You may feel that my bath is not a place to discuss philosophy, but I find it ideal because here both you and I are vulnerable."

A knowledgeable grin broke out over her face. "And yet you are the one with clothes on," she challenged.

"I can change that."

"No! Uh—it's just—I'm fine as we are." Her face reddened.

He continued, a serious man. "I promise you that if we go on you'll see me without defenses. The games I like, they go beyond games. We will share things that strip us both bare in _every way possible_. But none of this can happen without trust."

"I'd like to trust you," she replied honestly.

He looked at her with gentle eyes. "And I you. The risk is greater for me."

"The risk is always greater for the woman." The woman is always blamed for everything. Lola thought back to her pregnancy: she was blamed because she became pregnant and held the evidence of her indiscretion under her skin, but Francis, like all men, received none of the blame, scorn, anger, or pain.

Narcisse paused. "Not if the man is seen as an enemy of the king, or threat." Lola raised an eyebrow. "Once he learns of this, Francis will try to use you against me, that is a certainty."

"Why does Francis think that you're his enemy?"

"That's a reasonable question and a dangerous answer. So I will give you two choices: one, I can leave and you can finish this delightful bath and go home. Your world will remain as it is." He took this moment to place the towel he carried on a nearby chair. It was close enough that she could grab it if she reached for it, but it was far enough away that she would have to expose herself to reach the towel. _Yet another game of his_, she concluded. "Or you could join me in the drawing room downstairs and we could begin this journey to trust. It's not a journey you will return from unchanged, so consider it carefully," he added gravely.

Once he left she quickly wrapped the towel around her. She didn't even have to think about the ultimatum: she knew her decision before he had even finished his sentence. She dressed herself with nimble fingers. She did not hesitate as she opened the door, walked down the stairs, and entered the drawing room. She felt less like Pandora about to open a box out of curiosity, but instead thought of the tale of Bluebeard—the man with the mysterious past and several dead wives hidden in his closet, as his final wife would discover. Lola felt like a spy, a heroine. She had no doubt that Francis would agree with her choice.

Narcisse turned around at the sound of her footsteps. When she closed the door behind her a flood of relief washed across his face, followed by a naked look of fear. He may have been the one with the story to tell, but Lola was in complete control of the information he was about to impart on her. He knew her reaction would determine the rest of his life: if she kept his secret he could live in peace and security, but if she broke his trust and broached the subject with the king…surely he would be imprisoned or executed. Lola could tell the truth to Queen Mary, or worse, Catherine, neither of them would delay their actions of retaliation on him. Lola knew all of this and Narcisse knew that she did simply by looking into her large watchful eyes.

Lola crossed the room and sat down in a chair, her eyes never leaving his. "I'm ready," she said. "Now do you trust me?"

"I don't dare believe you," she spat at him after he told her all. "I only have your word that Francis killed Henry."

"Yes, I might be lying." He sat opposite her, his body stiff and pale.

Lola continued. "And even if he did, the king was mad. Those of us who heard him, who saw the terrible things that he did, know that."

"I make no moral judgments on Francis's actions."

Lola tried not to scoff. "But you are _blackmailing_ him."

"Yes," he admitted without a shred of shame, "because France needs a strong, Catholic leader to hold the nation together."

"You just told me the most profound state secret, what am I supposed to do with it?"

"Well what can you do? You can't make it public—you don't want to see Francis moved from the throne-that would endanger you and your child." She sat up straight and clenched her teeth at the mention of her son. "And nor do I, _unless forced_, because that would endanger France."

Here he did not boast or brag. Now he was afraid: his fingers twitched as he fiddled with his wedding band and some perspiration gathered at the top of his head. Lola did not feel triumphant at seeing Lord Narcisse's nervousness. She always believed that the most dangerous animals were those that felt trapped and vulnerable, just as Narcisse and Francis felt. But why did both of these men come to her for aid when feeling vulnerable and trapped?

"Then why tell me?" she asked.

Narcisse exhaled, his breath rattling in the over heated room. "Because when Francis comes to you and um…asks you to betray my trust, I want you to remember which one of us told you the truth about who we are _and what we are capable of_."

She wondered if this was a threat directed at herself, Francis, or even both of them.

"How are you sure Francis will come to me? He loves Mary. He trusts Mary. I am simply the woman who became pregnant with his child."

"That is _exactly_ why the king trusts you." She furrowed her brow. "Do you not see?" he asked. "The king trusts you more than any of the queen's other ladies. I have only been in the castle a few months, but I noticed this early on." This comment made her suspicious: is that why he talked to her? "He gave your son position when he did not have to. He lets you remain at court instead of sending you away. He treats you with more respect than most men would treat a former mistress."

"I have never been Francis's mistress!"

Narcisse raised an eyebrow. "And yet you are still the mother of his child. You of all people cannot ignore or be blind to the King's ties to you."

She folded her hands in her lap, not wishing to acknowledge this truth. Francis couldn't possibly be in love with her, she knew, but did he really trust her as much as Narcisse thought? _Of course_, she thought, _why else would he ask you to do this?_

"Trust goes both ways." She looked at Narcisse directly. "You have entrusted this horrible secret with me. You trust that I will keep it. Tell me why I should. Why should I trust you after what you have told me this night?"

"I want what is best for France."

"And overthrowing the royal family during an already chaotic time is best for France?" she asked, her eyes bulging.

"I am making Francis a stronger king."

"You are risking too many lives. Francis needs a friend, someone he trusts, someone who knows the right decisions to make. He does not need another enemy." She stood up forcefully. "Perhaps you haven't thought this through as much as you should have. Goodnight," she said curtly and walked towards the door.

"Lady Lola—"

"Francis is our king whether you like it or not. He has royal blood, he is anointed by God!" She took a deep breath, calming herself. "You should be more careful," she warned quietly. "He does not know you like I do."

It was then that Lola worried that she did not truly know Lord Narcisse at all. But she did not know Francis either, not anymore. She hated both men and feared for them on her journey home. She feared that neither could truly free themselves of the shackles, secrets, and threats each man cast on the other.

Then she was struck by Narcisse's words. He had told her the truth, or at least a large part of the truth. She wondered if this was a strategical tactic on his part done to unnerve her and throw her off balanced. If this theory was true then it certainly worked, for Lola then thought of Francis and his secrecy. Why did he not tell her the truth? Why did he keep everything hidden from her? Why did he not trust her enough with this information, but could trust her to hide the envelope? The envelope: what was in it? What had she done? Would the contents of that envelope lead to Narcisse's death? Yes blackmailing the king was a horrible and stupid move on his part, but Lola did not know if he deserved to die for this.

What act of treachery had Francis commanded her to preform?

She found Francis pacing alone in his room, twisting his wedding band nervously just as she had seen Narcisse do hours earlier. His face turned white as he looked at her standing in the doorway. He managed to breathe before rushing to her side. She peeked out in the hallway to make sure that no one was around, just as she had before entering. When she was satisfied that their conversation would be in secret, she closed the door.

"What happened? Did you succeed?" Francis asked breathlessly.

"What was in that envelope?" she asked sternly.

"I told you before, it's best for you if you don't know." Lola wanted to reprimand him, but she held back her anger for the moment.

"Francis, could whatever you wanted me to leave there cause his death?"

He froze for a moment before hesitatingly answering: "Yes."

"Why?!"

"Because I need something in place in case the threat of Narcisse becomes too great. Lola, did you plant it or not?"

"I'm sorry I wasn't able to," she lied, defiant. "He became too suspicious and I left."

He exhaled and furrowed his brow, raising his voice in frustration. "Lola, I know that you are frightened but I needed you to do this!"

"Because you're the better man? Well one of you used me and it wasn't him."

Then she left the room in a huff before he could think to ask her where the envelope was.

The next day Kenna took Lola to the grand hall and introduced her to Claude. Lola found the doll faced young woman to be rude and too willful for her own good. During this brief meeting, which only came to an abrupt end because Claude quickly tired of them and left to seek other drinking companions, Kenna tried her best to impress the princess, desperately seeking the young woman's approval. Lola almost could not believe that Kenna would want to befriend this creature, but stranger things had happened recently.

The rest of the day only continued to aggravate Lola. She desperately needed a friend to talk to. She tried to find Mary, but was told that the queen was elsewhere at the moment with Lord Conde. Kenna was no place to be found and Greer was still on her honeymoon as far as Lola knew. Lola wondered how Greer would adjust to having many stepchildren barely younger than herself.

She entered the apartments she and the other ladies had once shared mere months ago. It now stood nearly empty with only some furniture and furnishings to occupy space since all of its inhabitants had left to live with their husbands. Lola had not been back there since Francis had moved her to other apartments closer to his so he could reach their son more easily. She was only there for a few moments, but could have sworn that she heard the sound of a bed in the next room creaking. When she left, Lola thought she saw a flash of gold hair dart into the room. Lola assumed this was a servant, perhaps a pair of servants interrupted during their duties, or lovemaking more likely.

At dinner Lola looked for her friends once again, but instead of seeing Kenna or Mary, she was greeted with shocked and excited gossip in their place. The rest of court was shocked to hear that Louis de Bourbon, the Prince of Conde, had publically confessed to being a Protestant along with a few other men in a meeting before the king. This news surprised Lola, as it did everyone else, but then she thought of other rumors she had heard concerning the religious beliefs of his brother, Antoine de Bourbon, the King of Navarre, and became less surprised at this revelation. Lola's father had a certain amount of distain for Protestants, whom he felt had overtaken Scotland at an alarming speed, but Lola was more open-minded. The idea of meeting a Protestant had seemed so far away to her a few years ago, but now times certainly had changed.

She left the busy great hall, eager to return to her rooms. She passed Lord Narcisse in the corridors. She realized that he must have returned to court soon after her visit, perhaps only a few hours after she had left if he had arrived early in the day as she believed he must have. This idea frightened her: he must have found the envelope or at least suspect something. Then Lola remembered that he would have been present to hear Conde's confession and attributed Narcisse's presence to political matters instead of personal ones that she was concerned with.

Narcisse caught sight of her as she passed him, a small smile forming on his lips. He finished his conversation with another man before approaching her.

"Lady Lola." There was something about the way he said her name that tickled her. Whenever he spoke her name aloud she felt that a feather was tickling the back of her neck. Her name on his lips reminded her of red and purple velvet: a violet pillow atop a soft, silky bed. _Stop that!_ she commanded herself.

She turned around in time to see him bow courteously with that typical smug look on his face. "Always a delight."

Lola decided that now was the time for answers. She spoke: "You ask why I came to you, but I could ask the same of you." This question did not phase him, instead he merely stared at her with that smug grin still plastered to his face as if it were chiseled into his features from birth. Disappointed by his silence, she continued. "You say you seek something beyond games, but your reputation proceeds you. I've read all about it."

He grinned at the knowledge that she had read about his sexual prowess in _that book_. "In the famed journals I thought existed." He stepped forward presumptuously. "What detail _gripped_ you most?"

"Not the point," she said firmly. "Court is over-full with available women, uncomplicated women to explore and discard. Why me?"

He paused, either preparing a lie or preparing to tell the truth. "I have…" he swallowed, perhaps out of nervousness or to appear sincere, "…no ulterior motive Lola." She was relieved for a moment. "I suppose I do enjoy games, but I've never had a worthy opponent." _You should try Queen Catherine_, Lola wanted to say. Of course Lola was flattered that he thought she was a _worthy opponent_ to his games, but that still did not make his words any more true.

Lola decided to admit the truth too. "You make me do things I would not do otherwise." It frightened Lola that he brought out this side of her. But it was a side she enjoyed in one way or another. Narcisse smiled at her words. She wanted to return his smile, but he was still a danger to Francis. Francis. "But you are an adversary to Francis. An enemy." He did not appear to be listening, instead he stared down at her with that happy little grin that looked both gentle and wolfish. She tried to gain his attention by speaking louder. "And he is not only the father of my child. He's my king. And my friend. So you and I we cannot continue—"

He stopped her from finishing her sentence with a sudden kiss. Her instincts overtook her sense, making her close her eyes and lean in without a thought to the action. It must be a primal instinct: when someone leans in to kiss a woman the woman either flinches and draws back in surprise or the woman instinctively kisses back, regardless of the identity of the sender and receiver of the kiss. Lola received his lips, his mouth willingly. He pulled her closer to him, wrapping his arms around her back. She placed her hands on his shoulders, the warmth of her skin melting into the fabric of his clothes. He quietly moaned before pulling her behind a wall to hide themselves from passersby. Lola did not hear anyone approach them. She could only hear the sound of her own shallow breathing, his low moans, and their lips mashing together.

Then it hit her. She must not do this! She cannot do this! How dare he cut her off, ignore her words, invade her thoughts. Well, that last part he had no control over, but still Lola knew she had to stop this now. She reared her head back and pushed him away. When he tried to kiss her again she greeted him with a hard slap. The force made him cry out and turn his head in the other direction. _What a good slap_, she thought, complimenting herself. The slap echoed down the corridor. When Narcisse realized what had happened he gasped and then a pleased smile crossed his face, rather enjoying the feeling of her hand against him.

His enjoyment bewildered her. "Do not seek to take before I give," she commanded gently before stomping away from him.

She heard his heavy breathing behind her as he gathered his wits. "I'm glad to hear you're thinking of giving," he called to her as she receded down the corridor.

Lola gave him a quick look of disapproval over her shoulder before turning the corner. She didn't want to let him have any sort of power over her, even if she had enjoyed that kiss.


End file.
